


Instinct

by missurreal (orphan_account)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Human, Cured Demons, F/M, Fallen Angels, Forbidden Love, Gates of Heaven and Hell closed, M/M, Reincarnations
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-05-11
Updated: 2013-05-23
Packaged: 2017-12-11 13:08:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/799084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/missurreal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>God closed Heaven and Hell, and punished the angels and demons by turning them into humans. Dean only knows that he was a demon, but has no other memories of his life. All that's left is an instinct that makes him disgustingly aware of an angel's presence and either avoid or fight them. </p><p>So how can it be that everything in him longs to be close to that one blue eyed angel?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Heaven Finds Ways To Kill Your Joys With Love

**Author's Note:**

> _two feet standing on a principle_   
>  _two hands longing for each others warmth_
> 
>  
> 
> _\- Still by Daughter_

 

 

 

There’s no way that Dean can pass him by, and not look at Cas.

 

His brain screams at him, not to look. His feet should move faster to make the moment shorter, but instead he’s walking slower, on auto pilot. He can feel his heart beating, coming to life at the sight of Cas’ figure, walking towards him in this goddamned, crowded corridor, with Uriel and Balthazar walking beside him like the dogs they are. Dean remembers a time when he would have found much filthier insults for them. Now the apathy he feels is a mere silhouette of the instinctive hatred that a former Angel’s presence stirred in him.

 

After all, Angels and Demons were at war ever since they could remember Lucifer corrupting the first soul. This is all ancient history though. What used to be their reality now is but a mere memory of another life. Ever since God decided to reach his grace through, unexpected and absolute, and put an end to it all. They would have rendered the world an exhausted battlefield if he hadn’t. Looking back, Dean thinks they should have seen it coming; of course He wouldn’t let His beloved humanity be extinguished, if not by their own doing. So He closed them both, the Gates of Heaven and Hell, freeing the earth from any supernatural influences. Why He didn’t stop at that, Dean will never understand. What was the point of curing the Demons, and making the Angels fall?

 

But this is how it came to be, that’s how ancient souls are being reborn as mortals, and now there are countless spiritual beings all over the planet, having pathetic, human experiences. Dean was sure that this God had a sick and sadistic sense of humor, because not only did he punish them all, making them weak and fragile, he also made them consciously remember what they were, but not who.

Dean doesn’t know what God thought would happen, whether He was just too naïve or whether they were simply irreparably stubborn, but just because they were human now didn’t mean it was all peace and harmony. Previous Angels gathered together again by instinct, forming one big, scary family and believing – how else could it be – that they are better than the rest of humanity. Of course, Demons did the same, and now it looks like history is about to repeat itself in this weird reformation.

 

As serious and epic as it all sounds, Dean’s version of this reality is much more pathetic and lower scale. It’s not like he remembered his previous self, he had no idea who he had been or what decisions he had made, all that’s left was an instinct. He can tell immediately if a soul was a Demon like himself, and he felt camaraderie and loyalty towards his kind, and it was like he had an inbred preference for Demon souls to be his friends and mates. If he thinks about it, all his friends really were pervious Demons, even his brother, as if it was an impossibility that an Angel and a Demon could tolerate each other, even as reincarnations.

But they weren’t all that different from regular humans. Dean had a childhood too, had been a teenager just like everyone else, with hormones and girls and cars. Oh, does he ever worship his car.  Dean’s been a human for nearly two decades now, and he thought he was doing a fine job at it, to be honest. Sometimes he felt like there was no challenge he couldn’t face. But apparently, the universe – or God or whatever – had a twisted way of proving him wrong.

 

Everything he was supposed to feel and think and do, it all didn’t matter because it was wholly replaced by another instinct entirely. It’s all-consuming and absolute, and it’s not in him to resist this.

It’s in the way Cas moves, and in the way he wears a smile. It’s in the way he looks at his friends, and Dean would give anything to have the same rights to Cas as they do.  One look, just to get through the day, a quick glance, and maybe – if they time it right – they’ll even lock their eyes right there in the middle of the hallway, surrounded by their respective company. The prospect of this makes an excited hope stir through Dean’s chest, like a wild animal pacing in its cage.

Cas hasn’t noticed him yet, and this gives Dean the rare opportunity to just watch him for a moment, talking to his friends, being his careless self.

 

“Hey, how about you stop sleepwalking and say hi to me instead!” a familiar voice suddenly bursts in on his bubble. It takes Dean a second to force his eyes off Cas and onto Meg’s smug face. Something inside him drops in resignation.

“Need attention much?” Dean sighs, and Meg just rolls her eyes. They’ve been friends since second grade, and the teasing is a result of comfortable familiarity between them.

“What’s with you, huh? Love struck?” She turns around, facing the other end of the hallway. Dean takes his chance, and looks up again, his eyes find Castiel’s in an instant, and they’re looking back at him.

How he wishes he had the power to freeze time. He would stop the universe and get drunk on the deep blue and the electricity it’s sending his way. But there is no magic anymore, and time can’t be stopped.

Eventually Dean looks down and stares at the floor, trying to recover, and incredibly grateful when Meg turns around and obviously missed the whole thing.

Cas is long gone behind his back.

“What groupie were you checking out before?” Meg says, casually chewing gum and raising an eyebrow at him. Dean slaps himself internally. He can’t let himself drift away like that, not when there’s a witness or three. Because this? Him and Cas? This can’t be. He’s not even sure how it’s possible. And if the wrong people found out, well, Dean really does not want to think about that scenario right now.

“I thought you were the slutty one.” Dean counters weakly. It’s not his usual ready wit, but it’s enough to throw Meg off to other thoughts.

“You did not just say that!”

 

 

* * *

 

**_One week earlier_ **

 

College parties have a reputation that precedes them. Dean had high expectations that were built up in high school, and now that he finally moved out to Madison, he was pretty damn excited when he got invited to his first college party. After all, part of why he chose Madison was its crazy rep. The main reasons being the Mechanical Engineering program and that an eight hour drive to Lawrence seemed like a piece of cake, especially now that the Impala was officially his. Crazy parties and college girls were just a sweet cherry on top.

 

The first party for the freshmen is always a masquerade, and Dean was ridiculously excited because, well masquerades, and because he had developed this hot fantasy of a thrilling, faceless hook up. He chose to go classy with the devil’s horns and simple black mask, matching his black shirt and jeans. It was simple enough, and in case of a quick hook up easily removable.  Of course, Meg had the glorious idea to get them matching costumes, so she’s looking particularly sassy in her sexy crimson demon dress. He could think of Meg being sexy without it hitting any nerve because they had annoyed each other for too many years now. She was just like an additional sibling, although he’ll never care for her like he cares for Sam. Dean really couldn’t wait for next year when Sam would join the madness.

 

The party was hosted by two neighboring fraternities in both their buildings, and Dean got a little jumpy when they approached the location. Loud beats were blasting through the walls. The houses were of average size but with rather big yards, which was fortunate because the amount of people that showed up was insane. Everyone seemed to be holding a drink in their hands, red cups or beer bottles, and the smell of pot became a constant.

“I’m so getting a drink.” Meg muttered and melted into the crowd, and Dean loved her independence at these events. She was not a clingy attachment like girls often tend to be. And holy crap, the girls in this place. Everyone was masked so Dean had no idea whether they actually had a pretty face to match the rack. Not that it mattered tonight.

 

Two hours, four beers and too many pointless conversations later, Dean was making out with a nurse look-alike on a couch, running the fingers of his right hand through her short red hair, and the other resting on her soft breast. It was ordinary fumbling that matched the average kiss, and resulted in average stimulation. The kiss was slightly too wet, her fidgety tongue too demanding for Dean’s tastes. But the ludicrous thrill of anonymity behind their masks made up for it. 

He could hear hysterical laughter coming from several people from the other end of the room, and the sound was loud enough not to be drowned out by the rest. Dean’s curiosity was triggered. He pulled away from the girls’ mouth, moving his head away when she tried to move in for another kiss. He bent his head and looked at the group of people sitting on the floor a couple yards behind her. 

“Oh, spin the bottle!” he muttered happily. He gave the girl an apologetic look, and patted her thigh. “Come on!” She was standing up from his lap as the group made a cheering sound. From what Dean could see, it was because two girls had just kissed. _Not bad._

Dean’s never had problems approaching strangers, and the mask was definitely another encouragement. He went up to the group, which was already rather large with about a dozen people, and simply announced “We’re in too!” as he gestured to a Vampire and a Black Swan to make some space.  The red haired girl joined the circle silently, sitting down next to Dean, nudging close to him, putting a hand on his knee. He couldn’t care less so he let her.

 

They were spinning an empty wine bottle, and it landed on a rather chubby girl in a French Maid outfit.  Despite the mask he could see her blush and look down to her hands, waiting for the bottle to spin again. It was actually sort of adorable. Next, the bottle pointed at a tall, athletic looking Batman and he immediately crawled towards the girl to kiss her.  It actually looked as if they had really given it a go.

Dean definitely liked this game, andmore with every round, watching the funniest combinations happen, and kissing a Princess-dressed girl himself. Dean was getting tipsy, the red head was probably trying to get him drunk, because she was standing up to get them refills more than once.

Maybe that was how, when all of a sudden Dean had spun the bottle and landed a guy, he didn’t even think about whether that might be considered gay or not. It was not like he cared about labels and current social norms, and the gasping sounds some of the others made meant nothing.

 

What should have been a huge fucking warning were the black Angel wings said guy was wearing. The truth was that Dean was momentarily distracted by the sight of the faint shine of blue eyes hidden behind a mask, dark hair sticking out in adorable twists and lastly, full lips curved in a sweet, sheepish smile. And when those lips were on his, it felt everything but average.

 

Their mouths pressed against each other, lips moving, testing at first, tentatively and then perfectly exploring each other’s surface. And if Dean wasn’t drunk already he would be now, wholly intoxicated, lungs filled with an inviting scent, soft and reminding Dean of the existence of some corner of his body, tingling with desire. And he just couldn’t. They pulled away almost simultaneously, and only by a miracle Dean remembered to breathe.

 

He sat back on his spot, not really acknowledging the cheers and roars of those around him. He stared into space for what probably wasn’t an appropriate amount of time, but he didn’t think anyone would notice. The game continued soon enough, but Dean decided to leave it at that and fuck, and what? Go up to him and demand more? Dean lifted his gaze.

 

Too many things happened all at once. 

His stranger was looking in his direction, his mask was gone revealing a stunning face to match that kiss, and their eyes met for an unsatisfying second. Then another silhouette appeared behind the guy, grasping his shoulder and making him look up. The forcefull break of eye contact was disturbing. Suddenly the girl that was sitting next to him forcefully handed him both their drinks and stood up. Dean’s eyes were still glued on the stranger's profile, who was now standing up from the round, nodding at something his friend was saying.

Dean shifted his gaze to the guy that had appeared, now dragging his stranger away from the group. If he had had _any_ resolution, it was now wholly punched out of him by the bitter recognition, that it was Balthazar Mikaelson.

 

His insides tightened impossibly as a jolt of pain pierced through him, leaving him completely battered. Dean swallowed bitterly as Balthazar put an arm around those slender shoulders, making them turn around and walk away to the open doorway.

Two pairs of strapped on, black angel wings mocked him from across the room.

How didn’t Dean see them before? Not that a human couldn’t just as well wear an angel costume to this party, but the imagery of that would have at least made Dean think twice. Or, think at all. But this just confirmed the suspicion.

 

In a way, it was ironic. Of course it would be a fallen angel who could undo him like this, destroy him, leave him ruined and war-torn. He just didn’t expect **this** sort of attack.

Dean watched the angels go outside, and decided to go after them. He wasn’t stupid, so he kept his distance. Waves of fresh, cold air hit him as he stepped outside, and he was grateful as he noticed their sobering effect.

He spotted Meg surrounded by two other girls, all in devious outfits, and he contemplated going up to her and telling her about his terror. They could go after the angels, who probably thought this was all amusing, or maybe it was part of some bigger plot against his family? Dean didn’t want to follow the thought.  He should tell Meg and warn her right now. Maybe she would decide to go exchange threats instead of to fight, considering the rather public setting. But Dean doubted any of that would bring him any closure, so he decided against it.

 

For the most part though, he couldn’t find it in himself to share this. It was too personal. Hell, what if the angel was as surprised as he was? What if he wouldn’t tell Balthazar? It didn’t feel like this was a prank the angels would have come up with. And if the kiss had been just half as good for him as it was for Dean, he would have some serious food for thought.

And that was the core of the issue wasn’t it? Dean felt like his whole existence was a contradiction this very moment, and a rational part of his intelligence was telling him that it definitely, under no circumstances could have felt good. Because what was there to contemplate? There was only one way this scenario could possibly end without any bloodshed - and that was to forget it ever happened in the first place.

He shook it off and walked up to the three girls, only now realizing that Meg’s friends not only wore demon costumes, but also their souls.

Meg hooked her arm into Deans, and with one elegant move removed the mask from his face, introducing him to Eve and Lilith. Dean sighed on the inside but managed to give them both almost-bright smiles. If he was in another mood, he would be all over Eve. And if that mood were even better, he’d probably try and go after both of them.

 

He felt Meg shift and move her head closer to his ear.

“Three chicken wings at nine o’clock.” 

 

Awesome. Of course the universe decided to do the opposite of whatever he wanted it to do. Dean swallowed and followed the direction of Meg’s glare. Balthazar and his angel were standing in a small round with what was probably another angel, a skinny girl with hollow cheeks and long, red hair, wearing wings as well, only white ones. Balthazar and the girl were talking to each other, and the third angel was just standing there, staring in Dean’s direction. Dean saw his own panic looking back at him from a distance. It didn’t last long, the angel flinched and abruptly looked down to stare at the floor instead.

And Dean just knew it then. He was as sure of it as he was of the blue color of those eyes. He had just witnessed the angel realizing who he was, realizing the gravity of the situation only now, watching Dean stand with Meg on the opposite side of the front yard. So it hadn’t been a prank between ancient enemies. It was an accidental crime against nature.

 

“We should go over there and fry some chicken.” Meg said in a humorous but growingly excited tone. She kept looking at the three figures, and Dean could literally see a plan forming in her head. The skinny blonde that was standing next to Dean turned her head as well, following the direction of Meg’s glaring.

“Oh, yeah you’ll see that trash around quite a bit I’m afraid.” Lilith said as if suddenly nauseated. It dawned on Dean that he heard Meg say that both Lilith and Eve were in their second year of college, which meant there was a chance they knew something about the angel.

“You know them?” he said, trying to sound casual and uninterested, as if it was small talk. “I mean, we know Balthazar, he used to go to our high school.”

“What a waste of space he was.” Meg added.  

Meg let go of Dean’s arm and folded her arms in a defiant gesture, as if the memory itself offended her. Lilith smiled and shrugged, and spoke in a hushed voice.

 

“Yes, we know of him, I was lucky enough to never talk to him, but Eve has had some fights with him and that red head before. We usually try and avoid them all, which was easy because there were only about four or five of those bastards around the campus last year. But with you two arriving, maybe we’ll even outnumber them.”

Eve rolled her eyes and Lilith smirked, obviously pleased. Dean lifted his eyebrows in apprehension, and smiled back at her. For a moment he wondered why outnumbering them would matter, whether there would maybe ever be some actual fighting and not just a passive aggressive status quo. He was about to turn his head to look at the angels again, when suddenly Eve grabbed Lilith’s arm.

“Lil, I’ve never seen that other one.”

“Yeah, fresh meat I guess. Hope that it’s just one.”

 

Dean’s mind hurriedly saved that information, when Lilith turned to look at him and Meg again, and he felt as if he had just been caught doing something illegal. “But don’t worry, if they should ever come at you, Crowley’s got a pretty solid rep around here and he’ll gladly answer if you call.”

Everyone knew Crowley, at least everyone with their special lineage. He was probably the most influential, former demon soul of their generation. Dean knew Crowley was a dealer, but didn’t know any details or specifics, only that he had leverage over a lot of people, some of them former angels. Crowley was also a business major in his third or fourth year.

“Ugh, I already despise her. Look at her hideous face.” Meg hissed, earning a laugh from the other two.

“She’s a real piece of shit I can tell you that. Stay away from the art department, for sure.” Eve commented, and winked at Meg. Dean turned his head to look at the angels again. They were still standing in their formation of three, seemingly in a vivid conversation, but Balthazar’s back was now turned to them in a way that blocked Dean from seeing the other one, only able to make out edges of messy dark hair. He swallowed his uncalled-for disappointment and turned back.

Eve and Meg were still talking about the red haired girl, and when he looked at Lilith and saw her look back at him and smile, he knew that he wouldn’t have to try very hard to get it on with her if he wanted to. But he really didn’t, and that was all manner of weird.

“Imma go, you know, point Percy at the porcelain.” He said with a smile, and Lilith took it the wrong way. “Should I come with you?” she said bluntly, and he was surprised at how up-front that was. He smiled apologetically.

“I’ll be fine, I really just need to go.” Lilith’s shoulders sagged a bit. Meg just rolled her eyes and playfully pushed him away. Eve nodded and he heard Lilith say a ‘see you later, then’ before he turned to walk back to the house.

 

As he was walking, deliberately slowing down his pace, he turned his head back to the girls to see that none of them was watching him. His heartbeat sped up when he guided his look to the angel. He didn’t have much time to observe his profile because the door of the house was alarmingly close now.

And just before he was about to take his eyes off him, the guy looked up at him at once as if he had known Dean was right there, staring at him. As if electro shocked, Dean’s whole body twitched once and he turned his head away automatically, entering the house. He didn’t know where he was going, but as long as he didn’t stop he would be alright. His mind was blank, trying to recover and some small part of him was going crazy with the idea that the angel _knew_ Dean was alone in the house again. Whatever happened next, if anything was about to happen, it wasn’t on Dean to initiate it.

And he internally slapped himself hard across the face, because _what? You did not just wish for this to go into another round, you did not just come up with that downright foolish hope, Dean Winchester!_

He finally found the bathroom, and there was a queue of two girls in front of it. Perfect. _No, stupid!_

He leaned against the wall and folded his arms. The two girls smiled at him simultaneously. One of them was masked, wearing a sexy police officer costume, black hair up in a long ponytail. Dean cursed inwardly, because this party would have been a buffet of hot college girls in sexy outfits, but no, of course, today of all days he goes and loses his mind over –

Yes, exactly. These blue eyes that were looking at him now, and yes that possibly flawless face with – _oh_ , that same mouth that was moving to talk to him.

 

“Did you know?”

His voice was low and calm, its huskiness endearing.  Dean moved his head back a little, his mind was hauling off in all directions.

_What does this mean? What if someone sees? He came after me like I hoped he would.._

When he remembered that he was supposed to give an answer, he shook his head in a sigh, finding it hard to look for any words right that moment.

 

“Okay then.”

“Good.” Dean said defiantly, and didn’t know why he was going in this direction, he didn’t want this to end in a fight. _But this is who we are, don’t be a traitor._

But Dean hadn’t expected the angel to be quite quick on the trigger himself.

“I should have known. Most nauseating kiss I ever had.”

Dean’s face gave away his surprise and disappointment at that, but only for the fraction of a second. He recovered himself in an instant and frowned, shrugging to signal indifference instead.

“Honestly your stench should have given it away; I mean really, you reek of _something_.” Dean countered. Yes, something subtle and heavenly, and Dean couldn’t deny that he wasn’t repulsed by it, but he wouldn’t confess to it either.

 

“Sorry if I don’t smell rotten enough for you.”

“Hmm, yeah must be your virginity.”  

The angel paused at that, and stepped closer to Dean, definitely inside his personal space. The reaction Dean should have had was to back off, and not inhale. The delicate smell of an ocean between them made it hard for Dean to think straight. This is bad. The angel’s voice was nothing but a low whisper, touching something inside Dean that was definitely not appropriate either.

 

“What makes you think _that_?”

And Dean could only see those lips that were so close and right there, and if he could just move his head an inch closer and claim them again. Maybe he could stumble and fall forward; it could have been an accident, maybe someone pushed him. He’s aware that he has been looking at that mouth for an awkwardly long amount of time, so Dean shuts his eyes.

 

And he swears, he didn’t stumble or move. The lips he felt pressed against his own must have moved themselves. And oh, move they did, because Dean was not able to resist or to stay passive for more than two seconds. This time they were more careful and Dean couldn’t shake the impression that it could be over at any moment, broken by either of them. At the same time, it was more daring, because their tongues brushed and that was definitely not supposed to make Dean moan. He pushed the angel away then, and in a sudden realization of their whereabouts turned to see if anyone was looking. From what he could tell, they went completely unnoticed, the two girls that were standing in front of the bathroom before were gone. He turned back again.

The angel was now leaning heavily against the wall, head tilted back in a way that exposed his smooth neck and a look in his eyes that was directed at Dean and could have been arrogance or annoyance. Dean couldn’t read the angel. They were so obviously incompatible by design. The rational, accusing voice in his head was pleading now.

 

_We should deny anything ever happened and walk away. It’s the only way to save what’s left to save._

After a long, frozen moment the angel’s shoulders were turning, his head and body too, about to walk away, as if he had heard Dean’s thought. Something like adrenaline rushed through Dean. He felt his arm go up and grab the angel’s. It felt like he was watching this happen from a distant position, he didn’t have control and at the same time it was exactly what he wanted to do. That’s how they both looked at each other in surprise. The angel turned his head down and looked at Dean’s hand in a grip around his arm.

 

But it wasn’t disgust or offense that showed on his face, it was honest surprise, maybe confusion. And hell, Dean was obviously confused himself because why was his hand still holding him? He quickly removed it in a moment of soberness. _Just what the hell are you doing?_  

 

 “I.. uh, I’m sorry, I don’t know what –“

A sigh escaped Dean. That was it, Dean thought, it would be over any moment. He would watch the guy walk away from him and then they could go back to normal. His eyes fell down to the angel’s lips by accident, and it was impossible to process what he saw. Was that a smile?

“You know it’s funny really, because I still don’t react to your soul like I should.”

And this sentence right there broke through the whole iceberg that was between them, warmth and a tingling sensation spread through Dean’s chest in a small wave, with a hint of relief following. _What?_

This guy somehow managed to say what needed to be said, when Dean couldn’t do it. At the same time, every word the angel said was true for Dean as well. He didn’t feel the usual bitterness in his gut when he was this close to one of them. Normally he would feel all rotten inside and his instinct would command, that he either get rid of the cause or look for somewhere to be that was far, far from it.

But right now his instinct told him that encircling the angel was a territory, which promised Dean the only possible space for living. He swallowed and decided something. _Something really, really stupid._

He wanted to find out why.

 

“Why don’t we just.. go?”

The angel smiled softly at that, but still stood half turned like he was about to walk away. His eyes narrowed then, studying Dean for a moment. Dean couldn’t help but notice him swiftly licking his lips.

“Where?”

Good point and that wasn’t something Dean had thought about – hell he hadn’t thought anything through here – but he hoped it didn’t matter.

“We’ll find out eventually. Let’s just leave here.” 

Dean watched him turn his head to the front door, probably checking whether they were caught talking yet. There was obvious conflict in his expression that eventually gave way to resignation.

“Back door.”

 

 

When the angel started walking, Dean followed.

They passed groups of drunken college kids. He checked whether he was recognized and spotted by anyone. But they left the back yard and stepped on the sidewalk behind the house, before he could be sure. He shook his head without thinking, and mumbled to himself, how crazy this was and what the hell they were doing.

The fading sound of the party indicated the growing distance they left behind, and Dean felt more at ease, his breathing steadier with every step. Their pace slowed down a bit as soon as they were certain of their successful escape. Dean thought of Meg for a second, but he knew she’d be fine, it was nothing unusual that he disappeared from a party and turned back up in their dorm in the morning, freshly laid and hung-over.

 

They turned right at the next corner, and Dean knew in what direction they were heading. The university houses were surrounded by woods, and if they would just walk a mile or two, they would eventually reach the lake shore. No one spoke, and Dean was surprised how easy that was. It wasn’t awkward. There was no pressure to talk, even though they didn’t know anything about each other. Dean kept watching their feet move in accord, daring to look up at the angel’s face only once.

They entered in what looked like a Country Club’s golf course, spreading large and quiet before them. They kept following the lane they were on, and Dean could feel the air get cooler as they got closer to the lake. They still didn’t talk. When they came up to a pier, it was a mutual, silent decision to sit down.

During the minute that they sat there and gazed at the lake, Dean decided he needed a name.

“It’s Dean, by the way.” He said, looking at his feet before turning his head to his right side, tentatively looking up straight into blue eyes.

“Castiel.”

It matches the face, Dean thought, puzzling over how he could possibly explain that conclusion. How he could possibly explain any of this, actually. 

 

“Let’s skip the pretentious and obviously obsolete part, and just get to the truth, shall we?” Castiel said, seemingly concentrated and prepared.

There it was again, his ability to say the right thing and make Dean comfortable, reassuring that it was okay to be honest. What was the point in denial anymore? It had been too late for that the moment Dean kissed back the second time, arguably even before that, and it was definitely too late now that they sat here, turned to face each other, secluded and safe.

“You mean other than this being really fucked up?” he said, trying to make it sound light and ironic, but it came out serious and slightly panic-fueled.

 

“Really fucked up and really good."

Castiel simply said, a faint tug of a smile on the corner of his perfect lips. Dean licked his own, and caught himself doing it quickly enough to tear his eyes away to look at the lake again.

“But it doesn’t mean anything, does it?” Dean said slowly. “It was just a kiss, it doesn’t change anything.”

 

“It already has, Dean.” The way Castiel said his name, flawless and with a calm, hoarse voice, made Dean look at him again. He let his eyes graze over Castiel, his dark hair a perfect lure in the way it looked, both messy and neat at the same time, the handsome curve of his eyebrows over a dark blue pair of hopeful eyes looking back at him, only a hint of sadness in them. The intensity of his eyes and their honesty were tugging at all possible strings inside Dean.

“Do angels remember it?” Dean asked, genuinely curious. 

“Not exactly. We know what we were because God wants us to, but we don’t remember our lives. But we definitely sense when something used to be.. corrupted. And we have certain affinities. Most of us are feeling the need to help people.”

Dean nods, getting drunk on the sound of Castiel’s voice, this was the most he heard him speak at once. So it was the same on both sides, only instead of helping humanity, his family had a particular liking for making life on earth miserable. 

“But not all of us are the same.” Castiel continued, as if he noticed a grave flaw in his description. “Some of us probably never truly cared about humans, and they continue to be consumed by their own vanity and disgust towards your kind.” Dean knows that Castiel is choosing his words carefully, testing the limits of their newfound honesty.

Dean breathed out in a quick smile and looked down on his hands, folded together in a cross-legged lap. “Well, not everyone in my family is a douche bag, either.”

The angel’s lips twitched with a grin that didn’t last, but his eyes softened as they studied Dean’s.

 

“What is this, Dean?”

“I don’t know. But I’d rather find out and fail, than be denied a chance.” 

 

 

 


	2. We are such stuff as dreams are made on

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> God closed Heaven and Hell, and punished the angels and demons by turning them into humans. Dean only knows that he was a demon, but has no other memories of his life. All that’s left is an instinct that makes him disgustingly aware of an angel’s presence and either avoid or fight them.
> 
> So how can it be that everything in him longs to be close to that one blue eyed angel?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _I should go now quietly_   
>  _for my bones have found a place_   
>  _to lie down and sleep_
> 
>  
> 
> _Smother - Daughter_

 

 

„You know, if we were humans we’d have it so easy.”

“Hmm, maybe we’d be all over the gay thing instead?”

“Seems silly now, doesn’t it?”

“True.”

“What if you were a chick?”

“Why would I be the girl?”

“You’re the skinny one!”

“And you like Dr. Sexy!”

“Just go with it.”

“Fine. If I were a chick, what then?”

“We’d have it easy.”

“Or we’d be stuck in some other ways.”

“Can’t think of any.”

“Oh really? What if one of us was married?”

“I’d leave anyone for you without blinking.”

“What if we were related?”

“Ugh, really?”

“To quote you, ‘just go with it’.”

“Funny.”

“Isn’t it?”

“Well we’d run away and have little inbred babies.”

“Dean.”

“I know, at least we’d have some.”

“Come on, not fair.”

“Okay, okay.”

“See? It could be worse we could be related.”

“Wouldn’t stop me. At least not if you’d want it back.”

“Wait, you want babies?”

“What now?”

“Babies! You said you wanted babies!”

“No, I just meant –”

“You said, at least we’d have babies.”

“I know what I said!”

“So?”

“We didn’t even have sex yet Cas! Not really anyway! Don’t you think it’s a lil’early to-“

“YOU started it!”

“Forget it then.”

“…”

“Good.”

“…”

“Cas!”

“Hmm?”

“Don’t go all hurt and silent on me.”

“I’m not.”

“Right.”

“Maybe we should hang up now.”

“Maybe we should.”

“Okay then.”

“Fine.”

“…”

 

 

“Cas?”

“Hmm?”

“Don’t hang up on me.”

“Never.”

 

* * *

 

 

It’s been a little over a week since Dean met Castiel.

 

Eight days since they kissed and turned their world upside down. Or maybe it was just finally set right.

Because Dean’s lungs feel as if only now they are fully unfolded. How was life before Cas? Dean doesn’t know how he could have missed all of this. Was the sunlight always this pleasing? Did coffee always smell this nice? Was it always this easy to smile at everyone?

Dean knows this is all silly, foolish behavior. Like a child on Christmas. He knows it’s irrational and blinding and suspicious and embarrassing. And he shouldn’t feel this good.

Because those were eight days of sneaking, hiding, lying and betraying his family. Eight days of talking and laughing, touching and kissing someone, or something, that Dean has been brought up to stand against. Really, he should feel bad and horrible and guilty.

 

But that stupid grin on his face in the mirror just laughs it all off.

Dean was about to take a shower and now he is just standing there, looking at himself, feeling giddy. And weirdly proud of Cas, because that sneaky angel had actually managed to leave a hickey just below Dean’s right collarbone, without Dean even noticing it before. He must have been busy doing other things.

Dean just smiles wider and his stupid, excited eyes gleam at him from the mirror. He’s looking really handsome today, and he doesn’t even feel bad about thinking that about himself. Because somehow, it’s Cas who’s brought this out in him, and somehow, it’s Cas _. It’s all for Cas._

 

He finally steps into the shower that has been running for two minutes already. The small bathroom is already fogged up because the water’s been running hot. Dean can’t help but enjoy the soothing stream down his back and front, tracing his skin with a flowing, wet touch.

His mind is still floating with thoughts of Cas, images of the past eight days that pour out of memories and into dreams.

Cas’ eyes lit up over a wide smile. The sound of his laughter, mixed with the impression of sunshine on his skin. The feeling Dean gets when Cas steps close to whisper him something. The brush of perfect lips against his ear when he does. The feeling of his lips on Dean’s cheek, on his neck, on his mouth. Dean’s fingers tracing over every inch of Cas’ face, down to his chest. Dean’s hand on Cas’ solid chest, heartbeat noticeable under the touch. Dean’s hand wandering lower, searching its way under boxer briefs, finding its firm destination.

Dean’s hand is on his own cock, hard and happy about the memories. Hypnotized by the sound of flowing water and the powerful presence of Cas in his mind. Dean doesn’t open his eyes when he starts stroking his length. Behind his eyelids, every little thing about Cas that he sucked in like a sponge during the past week comes alive.

Dean doesn’t need long, and when he comes under hushed moaning, relieved and free, he can’t help but smile at the wonder that is Cas. And at how crazy Dean is about him.

Cas should be here. Dean shouldn’t have to do hot quickies in the shower all by himself.

 

 

_A cool, smooth hand slides into his own, tentative fingers entwine with his and squeeze lightly._

_“One more thing..”_

_Cas says, the bittersweet taste of their goodbye is hanging in between them, waiting for them to part ways._

_It’s 6am in the morning and they had been at the lake shore for more than five hours, talking for what seemed like forever, and then not talking at all, busy with hungry kisses. Dean had stopped counting them because they were all blurred together, their tongues had found their perfect dance and their hands had dared to go places where Dean’s mind yet had to follow._

_But now they were standing at a street corner, and Cas would turn right, and Dean would turn left, and this night would end. Dean was starting to think it might all turn out to be a dream tomorrow._

_Dean squeezed Cas’ hand in his own, pulling him towards himself. He nudged his face against the side of Cas’ head and breathed in his scent, a mixture of Cas and the lake. Dean suddenly loved that lake._

_Dean felt the brush of cool lips against his ear, where Cas laid one soft peck, before he spoke._

_“If you ever feel sad about this, remember the good things.”_

 

 

The water is still flowing down his body. His cock is calm, content and warm, just like Dean himself. He cleans his come off the wall panels and finishes up in the shower.

 

* * *

 

 

It’s Friday and Fridays are special.

 

Miraculous, even. Because every Friday, Dean and Cas are legitimately, officially and openly allowed to be in the same room.

Prof. Milstein’s lecture on Statics is part of both, Dean’s and Cas’ schedule.

What’s really miraculous about this though, is the fact that none of their respective family members are part of that same lecture. There’s no Meg, no Crowley, no Lilith, no angels, no one. And all the other students are oblivious to the situation.

 

It’s Dean’s new favorite time of the week.

 

The only problem is that he will probably fail the lecture, because he just can’t concentrate on Newton’s third law, or force systems, or solutions to three-dimensional problems. Not when Cas is casually sat right next to him like this. It comes so naturally to them, like it’s not the first time they’re able to be together in public.

And maybe Dean’s pushing it a bit, taking Cas’ hand and drawing circles on it with his thumb. He can’t help but marvel at the image of their hands together with the background of a lecture hall, filled with people who don’t care or mind what they do. It’s intoxicating.

Of course they are sitting in the back row, trying not to stand out too much. Cas is still seemingly focused on the lecture, scribbling down notes every so often. Dean doesn’t know whether to be glad that at least one of them is paying attention, or to be challenged and try and make Cas focus wholly on him.

 

Dean thinks about it for a minute, assessing the situation, and chooses the second option.

He can feel himself smirk, trying hard not to snicker about his own sassiness. He decides to work with what he’s got, which is Cas’ hand in his own, and tugs lightly at it. Cas doesn’t react, much like Dean thought he wouldn’t. That’s okay, because Dean’s got an ace up his sleeve.

He moves Cas’ hand with his own, first up to lay a quick kiss on it, which earns him a small smile from Cas. Of course, being the angel that he is, he doesn’t remove his focus from the professor, and even starts writing down another note.

Dean smirks again, feeling vicious. His hands are both firmly around Castiel’s, and he slowly guides it down to his thigh, where he spreads it out. Cas’ fingers are still loose, unsuspecting. Growing excitement at what Dean’s about to do and Cas’ reaction to it, makes him blush in anticipation.

He spreads out his own hand over Cas’ and holds it, before slowly moving it to his groin. He puts Cas’ hand right where he can feel Dean’s excitement.

He expected Cas to freeze, or to move his hand back, maybe to gasp and give him a shocked look. Instead he doesn’t move his head, but his hand sprawls around the shape of Dean’s cock in his jeans, as if this was perfectly acceptable and not inappropriate at all. Dean feels himself blush even more.

He can’t stop a quiet, muffled gasp when it leaves his lips, and this makes Cas smirk. Dean _worships_ playful Cas.

 

He looks at Dean then, finally putting the pen down. The hand that was on Dean’s bulge is slowly moving back towards its owner. His fingers keep lingering on Dean, as if they’re not ready to break the contact, and Dean just brings his hand up again and folds their fingers together.

They study each other, and their bubble is filled with peaceful contentment, and maybe a small tinge of dirty thoughts coming from Dean.

Suddenly Cas turns to look to his other side, but the other students seem too concentrated on the task of catching everything the professor’s saying, so when he turns back and swiftly puts up both his legs to rest on Dean’s lap, no one even bothers to look. Dean smiles brightly at Cas and puts both his hands on Cas’ legs, patting him happily.

But Cas already turned his head back to the writing pad that is on his lap now, scribbling down more notes, as if what just happened was nothing out of the ordinary.

 

Dean really loves Fridays.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Correction: Dean really loves Friday _mornings._

 

Because somehow, that very same day has turned into some sort of torture in the evening.

 

“Come on, Dean! You can’t be serious!”

 

“Meg, I mean it! I don’t feel like going out. I just wanna stay home.”

Admittedly, it does sound weird for him to say that, especially given their mutual history of crazy Friday night partying and excessive drinking.

 

“And do what? Huh?”

“I don’t know, eat pie? Watch porn? Whatever!”

“Ugh, I can’t believe you! Fine then, but we’re not watching porn, I’m picking a movie!”

“Wait what? No, no, you go out! I insist!”

 

Okay this was going terribly. Meg is being a clingy, needy pile of PMS and Dean’s not sure he can resist her much longer. He’d rather go and have a horrible night out than stay in with her and watch another James Stewart movie.

“Are you trying to tell me something, Deano?” Her eyes narrow as her body moves into a defensive stance, hands on her hips.

“Like what?”

“Like you’re trying to get rid of me because you have a hot date or something?”

_Damn her._

“Nah, you know me, I’m not one for dating.”

“True that. So why would you wanna stay in and masturbate if you can go out and actually get laid?”

A sigh escapes Dean, and he realizes that he needs to find a way to deal with Meg. He can’t and doesn’t _want to_ neglect her, and maybe he needs to spend some time with her, if only not to make her suspicious. Maybe Friday mornings were only good because it was all Dean would see of Cas for the day. _The lord giveth and the Lord taketh away._

“ _Fine_ , let’s go out.”

 

 

They end up at a bar on State Street. It’s filled with people wearing red and white shirts, which means a Badger game is on tonight. Sure enough, just as they enter it, the whole bar starts cheering at something that just happened on the TV screen.

Meg orders Dean to get them drinks as she looks for people they might know. Dean waits his turn at the bar and orders two beers, when right next to him a pretty brunette turns his way and gives him a charming smile.

 

“Hi.”

He smiles back because her smile is contagious, and nods. “Hey.”

“So, you like the Badgers?” She’s fully turned his way now, holding what looks like a gin tonic in front of her.

“Nah, I’m not one for college football.”

“Oh, good, because now we don’t have to watch that stupid game, since we have better things to do.”

“Oh yeah? What’s that?”

“Well, talking to each other of course.” She winks at him and raises her glass. He toasts her with his beer and they take a sip. For a moment, he doesn’t know what to say, or if to say anything at all. Well _that_ is a first.

“I’m Dean, by the way.”

“Lisa.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

“I’ll be at your door in two minutes.”

“What? Dean – no! _Wait!”_

“Cas, I’m coming now.”

“Stop Dean, think about it, you’re drunk and if someone sees you-“

“Let them.”

“Dean, what if someone sees us?”

“Let them, I say.”

“Dean!”

“Cas, I’m telling you I don’t care! Man, I think I got lost..”

“Just stop, wait-“

“Oh, no, it’s right there.”

“What-“

“I’m in front of your dorm.”

“Shut up.”

“Damn it, Cas! What don’t you-“

“Be quiet and stay where you are.”  And their connection breaks off. Did Cas just hang up on him?

Just great, now he really feels like the biggest jackass.

 

It’s sometime late in the night - or early in the morning, depending how you look at it - and Dean is drunk and tired. Plus, he’s not wearing a jacket and it’s actually really not warm enough at night, so he’s sort of getting cold. And there’s a fuzzy feeling growing inside his belly, hopefully not nausea because nope, not a good idea.

 

Suddenly the door to the dorms opens, and Cas’ head pokes out. His hair’s a mess. Dean must have woken him up. _Oh._

Just when Dean’s about to apologize, Cas puts a finger on his mouth and signals him to be quiet. Okay, Dean can do that, so he nods.

Cas stretches a hand out then, and Dean steps up to take it. Cas’ hand is warm when it grabs Dean’s. He leads them inside, and carefully and quietly closes the heavy door behind them. Dean’s about to whisper a “hey”, but then his brain remembers to be quiet. _Hah!_ Cas will be proud of him.

Cas holds Dean’s hand and slowly leads him upstairs, where one of the dorm rooms was left wide open. They enter through the door and step inside. Dean realizes he has never actually been to Cas’ place before. He can’t really see much of what’s around because it’s dark and he’s not in the best condition to concentrate on any silhouettes. When they are finally behind closed doors, Cas turns around to look at Dean.

 

The angel was obviously prepared to give an angry lecture, but something in Dean’s face must have hit a weak spot, because he just sighed instead, his eyes softening. Dean watches Cas, and relief just floods him from the inside out. _Finally, there he is._

It’s stupid and it shouldn’t be this impossible for him to stay away from the angel for a day. It’s not even been 24 hours since he last saw him. But Dean has already decided – now and eight days ago – that he doesn’t care about the huge fucking difference between how he feels and how he _should_ feel. He puts both his hands on the sides of Cas’ face and draws him in to bring their lips together for a sweet, quick kiss. Cas’ mouth is slightly open in surprise.

Dean notices that Cas smells like soap.

 

 _Oh no._ He didn’t think this through at all. What the hell is he doing?

 

Dean’s still drunk and fuzzy and probably smells like cigarettes and beer and Cas smells heavenly and he was probably sleeping and, shit. He’s known Cas for what, a week? Why did he have to go and be annoying?

 

“Shit, I’m sorry! I don’t know what I’m doing – I didn’t mean – I just –“

“Dean, it’s okay, really.”

“You were right, what if someone sees us? Ugh, this is stupid I shouldn’t have come here –“

“It’s fine, see? We’re fine, no one saw.” Cas takes Dean’s hands in his own, brings them up and puts them on his chest. If Dean would stay still, maybe he could feel Cas’ heartbeat.

When Dean looks up from his hands, he can see Cas smile. “I can’t believe we actually made it through that stairway. Did you know that three other angels live in this building? Alfie’s room is just on the other side of the hallway.”

“Alfie?”

“Mhm.”

“That’s such a cute name for an angel.”

“Alfie’s the cutest, too.”

“Say what?”

“Well, he _is_ cute.”

Dean can feel his eyes narrow at that. “Is that so?”

And why was Cas smirking now?

“You’re drunk. _And_ you’re jealous.”

“So?”

“It’s interesting. I never see you get jealous.”

 

“That’s because you’re never there to see it.”

 

And that came out so wrong, in more than one way. And Dean knows it while he’s saying it, but his mouth just does what it wants. And Cas’ disappearing smile is like a slap. _Oh, the greatness._ Dean’s just totally murdered the mood.

 

“You know, I’m jealous every day. And I don’t even have to see you with anyone to get there. I’m just jealous like, by default whenever you’re not with me.”

 

“That’s not jealousy, Dean.”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

Cas steps closer and puts a hand around the back of Dean’s neck, his fingers brushing through Dean’s hair. “You just miss me.”

Dean’s arms snake around Cas’ waist, pulling him into an embrace. He rests his head on the angel’s shoulder while lazy kisses trace the nape of his neck _. I do, I really do._

“You’re driving me insane, you know that?” Dean says instead. Somehow his head is spinning, as if to underline the truth in that sentence. He holds Cas tighter, and they stand like this for a while.

“Let’s get you to bed.” Cas says eventually and pulls away. When Dean moves his head up from Cas’ shoulder it feels too heavy for his own neck. Cas takes Dean’s hands and leads him into the next room, sitting him down on the bed. He orders Dean to take off his shoes and socks, and walks back to close the door of the bedroom.

 

Dean watches Cas’ silhouette return to him, looking up to find the shimmer of dark eyes. Slowly and carefully, he puts his hands on Cas’ hips and moves to start tugging at the pair of sweatpants Cas is wearing, trying to get them off him.

“Dean..” But no hands try to stop him; they rest on both of Dean’s shoulders instead. His right hand moves towards Dean’s neck, his thumb feeling Dean’s strong collarbone beneath it. Dean pulls the pants down to Cas’ knees achingly slow, and when his hands come up to his hips again, he can feel tight boxer briefs under his hands. Suddenly Cas steps back and out of the sweatpants.

For a second or two, Dean thinks Cas is walking away, breaking off what he started. But that is all forgotten as soon as he feels Cas straddle his lap and put both his arms around his neck. Dean reacts and sprawls out his hands on Cas’ back.

When Cas kisses Dean, focused and intense, he puts his hands on the sides of Dean’s face again, and holds him where he wants him. His fingers are up in Dean’s hair and tugging it tight. Dean melts and his mouth opens, breathing faster, feeling dizzy.

He’s still in limbo when Cas breaks away, suddenly tugging at something himself. Dean’s sweater.

 _Oh._ Dean lifts his arms and Cas is undressing him, taking off both his sweater and his t-shirt, leaving Dean shirtless, his mind still preoccupied with the taste of Castiel’s breath. But he regains enough brain activity to do himself a favor and take Cas’ shirt off, with some help of the angel.

Just when he is about to kiss Cas again, he gets pushed down, landing backwards on the soft mattress. Cas stands up and opens Dean’s jeans, quickly and expertly dragging them off, until they fall to the floor.

Cas is back, sitting on Dean’s lap again in an instant, his body coming down to hover over Dean’s. He can feel Cas’ necklace dangling and resting on his throat when Cas covers Dean’s lips with his own. And he can feel Cas’ groin pressed against his, through two pairs of boxers. Dean moans against Cas’ lips, his hands on Cas’ back pulling the angel down to press their chests together, not allowing more than a breath between them. This makes him sink further into Dean and the way he just _fits_ there is seriously messing with Dean’s head.

Cas is rubbing their covered hard-ons together in long, slow rolls of his hips against Deans, while their mouths are hungrily moving together, back and forth, tongues nudging each other. Dean’s swollen cock is desperately straining against the inside of his briefs as his mind wraps itself around the fact that Cas is literally grinding against him under their smothering kiss.

 

“You feel so _good_.” Dean hears himself say.

 

Cas lifts his head up slightly, biting his lip. A smile spreads across his face and he pushes into Dean’s groin hard, their cocks aligning through the cloth. Dean looks into a pair of mesmerized eyes.

One of Cas’ hands moves down from where it was clutching Dean’s chest, towards his waistline. Dean’s skin burns in a line that Cas’ fingers traced down along his side. When he feels Cas grip his length through the material and start massaging it, he gasps sharply, all the while their eyes are locked on each other.

They kiss once, gently, and then with more passion again, Dean’s eyes are closed and his fingers now splayed across Castiel’s jaw. The humping makes Dean want _more_ , but he is too caught up in the moment, too thrilled with the sounds Cas starts making now, to do anything about it.

 

“ _Fuck_ , _Cas_ –“

 

And Dean is definitely too drunk to truly take control of anything that is happening. Because under normal circumstances, he would not just have come, sudden and unashamed, simply because Cas had reached his hand under his pants and stroked Dean’s cock. He came with Cas’ warm hand still around him, and has to bite his lip not to make too loud sounds. Dean’s eyes are still closed, simply enjoying the spinning sensation. He feels as if he is floating in his angel’s scent.

 

Cas’ hand moves from Dean’s cock to his own, and with a few expert strokes, he makes himself follow suit. Dean can only hear his restrained moans and then feel him crash down on his chest, his wild hair tickling Dean’s cheek.

 

And Dean doesn’t want to move an inch, ever again. He wants to take this moment, as flawed and shallow as it may be, and save it up inside his head, safe and perfect, because he has a feeling that this is one of those good things he’ll want to remember later.

 

He places a single kiss to the top of Cas’ head, and drifts off to sleep.

 

 

 


	3. Come and Strip your Soul Bare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> God closed Heaven and Hell, and punished the angels and demons by turning them into humans. Dean only knows that he was a demon, but has no other memories of his life. All that's left is an instinct that makes him disgustingly aware of an angel's presence and either avoid or fight them.
> 
> So how can it be that everything in him longs to be close to that one blue eyed angel?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _so this is the porn chapter i guess, i promise some plot will follow, eventually.._

Dean woke up to the sound of water pouring into a bathtub. His body felt heavy and sore, and he felt like he couldn’t move an inch. This bed was definitely too comfortable. Maybe because it smelled of Cas. Dean drew the pillow closer to his face and inhaled.

Whatever time it was, it was too early. Dean opened his eyes and saw that the sun was barely up. Morning light was bathing the room in a mild, blue tone. It was definitely too early.  
But Cas was awake and probably about to take a bath, and there was no way Dean could go back to sleep now. He sat up and looked around the room. He didn’t know Cas owned so many books. A couple of plants were standing in front of the window, the walls were painted in a crimson red, and on one of them hung a large photograph with a black frame. It was a group photograph, and Dean squinted his eyes to be able to see the people’s faces. He saw Balthazar and Cas, and figured the rest were angels as well. The photograph looked dated, maybe an early high school Cas. It reminded Dean of Sam and home.

  
He stood up lazily, and walked into the bathroom that was connected to the bedroom. He saw Cas, lying in the bathtub, eyes closed, head leaning back. Dean would take a picture of the sight, if he could.

“Sorry if I woke you.” Cas said and slowly opened his eyes. Dean smiled.  
“S’okay.” He went up to Cas, stood close to where his head was and kneeled down. Cas’ face was now inches from his own, and Dean could see the shadow of a stubble, and he wanted to run his fingers over it. Somehow, he resisted.

“It’s going to be tricky, you know. Getting you out of here.”

The angel’s voice was soft, and although what he said should have sounded worried, it didn’t. Cas seemed calm and relaxed, and this made Dean equally calm.

“I’ll just stay here then.” Cas giggled adorably at that, but Dean was serious. It was Saturday, and he didn’t want or have to be anywhere else. Cas still smiled, and when he saw the look in Dean’s eyes, he gave a weak nod.

“Sounds like a plan.”

“Yeah, fool proof.” Dean grinned back at him; his fingers were now playing along the edge of the tub.

“I think you should take a bath, too.”

“I’d rather watch _you_.”

“Or you could do both?” He smirked and Dean’s stomach fluttered.

Dean stood up to take off his boxer briefs, Cas’ eyes lazily tracing his movements. The tub was barely big enough for both of them, but they managed. Dean’s legs were stretched out on both sides, with Cas’ over them. Cas would lean his head back again and close his eyes, and Dean would just sit there in the water with him, and watch him. Sometimes one of Cas’ hands found Dean’s knee underwater and traced lines on it.

The quiet calm that radiated off Cas was like a comfortable, soft embrace around Dean’s mind. The small bathroom was dark except for the faint shine of blue light coming from the bedroom. It was quiet and lazy, and it felt like they were cut off from the rest of the world and inside a perfect bubble of content. But Dean could tell the sun was rising, if only slowly, because the light got brighter, colors growing paler.

“We should just stay here.”

“But we are.”

“I mean all day. Let’s not leave this place; we could stay here all weekend.” And while Dean said it, he wished Cas would just say yes. They could stay here and hide and pretend not to be home. Dean thought of at least a dozen things they could do, a dozen images of Cas and him flashing through his mind. They could stay in the tub and Dean would be perfectly happy watching Cas. Maybe it would get deliciously dirty. They could lie on the bed and explore each other’s minds or bodies or both.

“But we’d starve!”

“Don’t you have any food?”

“Maybe?” Dean’s mind pictured Cas and him in the kitchen, looking for food and making something out of the weirdest ingredients. Dean wouldn’t be hungry for food but for Cas, stealing kisses from him when he could.

“See, we’ll find something..”

Cas rolled his eyes and pursed his lips in a smile. But something in his eyes changed.

“Are you going to tell me what happened yesterday?” he asked, head tilted to one side. For a moment, Dean didn’t know what was yesterday, where he had been, what Cas was referring to. But he remembered, and shrugged.

“Not much to tell. I went out with Meg, got drunk and left.”

“And what with this visit? Not that I’m not glad about it, just seemed.. reckless, desperate maybe.”

“Oh, I was desperate alright. I just lost it, was drunk, and wanted to see you.”

“Hmm.” Cas let his head fall back again, leaning against the edge of the tub, eyes set on his fingers which were playing with Dean’s in the water. But the calm inside Dean had been stirred.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“Cas!”

“Well, that’s not quite what you were saying this morning.”

“Saying when? What now?”

“Did you know you talk in your sleep? You told me not to touch you, and you kept saying _‘I can’t! I can’t!_ ’ over and over. Dean, maybe this isn’t right for us, maybe –“

“Cas, wait, that’s not – “ Dean’s mind was running, opening drawers inside his head, searching for words that could fit, words that were just right, and he felt like he was stumbling through a pile of nothing, while Cas was speaking dangerous things at him, shaking the ground he stood on.

“Maybe it’s too much, you know, pressure and effort and I don’t want you to –“

“Come on now, Cas! You know I can handle it!”

“Well maybe you think you can. We don’t know what would happen if they found us, we really don’t. Just from how you were this morning, I don’t know –“

“It’s not what you think, Cas. I don’t think I was talking to you.”

“Not talking to me?”

“No.”

That thought didn’t seem to have occurred to Cas before, it made his eyes narrow and he swallowed, licked his lips in consideration. But the way he was laying there, leaning against the tub, suddenly made Dean sad. What he interpreted as content calm could have been resignation from the very start, and Dean wanted to kick himself.

“It’s not you, Cas. Because I’ll never say no to you, don’t you see? It’s everyone else that doesn’t get to touch me anymore, because of you. It’s the lying and the pretending in front of them, that I can’t do.”

Dean sat up and leaned forward, intertwining his fingers with Cas’ and pulling his hand, until Cas sat up as well. He was looking down on their hands, and Dean could see that his words had done their job.

“It’s something that happened yesterday. Don’t be mad, okay?” Cas looked up at him then and pursed his lips. Although it was probably a gesture of annoyance or disappointment, Dean found it adorable.

“It’s nothing, really. I talked to this girl and usually when we go out, well I sort of hook up with girls.”

Dean could see Cas’ shoulders sagging, exhaling a long held breath.

“Nothing happened, I swear. I just walked her home. Meg always gets home with some other guys, too, and I’m sure she thinks I got it on with that chick. Anyway, she kissed me in front of her house. That’s all there was. And I’m pretty sure I was acting freaked out and weird and she probably thinks she raped me or something.”

“Dean –“

“Yeah I know, I’m sorry about the kiss. I’m sorry I went out at all, I didn’t want to but Meg can be a bitch sometimes, or well she usually is, and then I was thinking well I better act normal and –“

“Dean, stop –“

“And then I was drunk and walking and I ended up at your place.” Dean let go of Cas’ fingers, to lift his right hand up and put it around Cas’ neck, pulling him closer and resting their foreheads against each other. “And I’m not sorry for that.”

“Dean, it’s fine. We never set any rules. I mean, I don’t have any right to be mad so –“

“I’d be mad at you, so you can be mad at me.”

He watched Cas’ mouth open and close, as if he wanted to say something but decided not to. Dean felt charged and tingly now, with Cas’ face so close and his breath warm against Dean’s mouth, as if delivering a foretaste of those lips. Their bodies wet and touching in this entangled way they were sitting in that bathtub. The light that came in from the window of the other room was brighter now, a sweet and dark shimmer of yellow covered both their skin. Dean moved the hand on Cas’ neck up to run his fingers through the soft mess of dark, dry hair.

But as good as it all felt, something was missing. Dean knew what it was. He wanted it so bad that he wasn’t above begging for it either.

“Please, Cas.”

He heard himself whisper, moving closer to his angel, their noses touching.

“I need you to touch me back.”

And he didn’t have to wait for long. Cas moved as if he had broken out of chains. Dean could feel Cas’ hands glide around his back, fingers possessively digging into his skin, moving them even closer together.

Their lips and their cocks met at the same time. Dean felt surrounded by the sensation of wet contact. Cas was all there was, his lips opened and welcomed Dean’s tongue, his taste was exhilarating, as was the brushing of their hard-ons against each other. The sensitive skin of his cock, enclosed in warm water, slicked against Cas’ and Dean couldn’t help but moan into his angel’s mouth. His right hand was still grabbing Cas’ hair, but with his left hand he took their cocks and pressed them against each other in a firm grip, slowly stroking them both under the water, giving off little waves with each stroke. Cas’ hands were moving on Dean’s back, one of them was near Dean’s bottom, fingers still clasping tight around Dean’s skin.

It was the most intense, most heated moment Dean could think of. He felt like the edges of his body melted into Cas, he didn’t know where he ended anymore, and where Cas began.

They stayed like this, in a breathing, moaning and melting heap of kisses and strokes, of hushed names and sweet tongues. When Dean’s stroking grew faster and their breathing with it, Dean pulled away from the kiss.

“Cas, please –“

“Yes, bed.” 

Dean’s heart was stumbling over its own beats. Cas wanted it just as much as he did. Was it all too good to be true? They disentangled themselves, Dean’s hand felt cold and naked at the loss of contact, but as soon as they stood up and out of the bathtub, surrounded by the steam of their wet, warm bodies, Cas’ hand was on Dean’s chest again. Dean was certain that Cas could feel his pulse.

Dean took a step forward and brought their bodies together again, his arms around Cas’ neck, head nestling up against his side. Cas put his arms around Dean’s waist and they stood there for another minute, water dripping down their bodies onto cool bathroom tiles, cocks touching, pressed together between them, both hard and pulsating. Then Cas pulled away and took Dean’s hand, and lead them to the other room, onto the bed with the sheets in a mess that Dean had left earlier.

The heat between them was like a magnetic field pulling their bodies towards each other, making them stay close, and never losing touch. Cas was lying with his back on the bed, Dean on top of him placing chaste kisses on his neck.  Dean’s hard-on brushed against Cas’, both still warm and wet from the bath. Dean felt hands tracing the lines on the skin that they had touched before, and the memory made him shiver and ache for more. Suddenly he felt Cas’ legs around his waist.

“Please.”

Cas’ voice was soft and pleading, the look in his eyes told Dean that he was sure. One of his hands moved from Dean’s back to the side table, and opened a drawer. Dean followed his movement and took out the bottle of lube, while Cas wrapped Dean’s cock in a condom. One of Cas’ hands stayed on Dean’s cock, stroking it achingly slow, while his other hand was stroking his own, mirroring the movement. Dean’s mind tried to wrap itself around this sight before him, revoking some pre-come which made the head of his cock slick and warm.

“Come inside me, Dean.”

“Don’t, Cas! You can’t say these things to me!”

Dean covered Cas’ lips with his own, and told him between delicious kisses, that these things are going to undo him _right there and then_. Dean had put some lube on his fingers and it was warm and slick now, waiting for him to put it to use. Cas’ hand around his cock tightened, making Dean gasp. He looked into deep blue, mouths open and breathing against each other, as he reached his hand between them and found Cas’ hole. It was perfect; Dean knew it would be, tight and ready at the same time, not needing much preparation.

Cas took a sharp breath when Dean put two fingers inside him. Dean kissed him again at that, overwhelmed by how much he desired this angel, how much he wanted him, in every way imaginable, not just here and now. Overwhelmed by how much power the angel held over him.

Dean slowly removed his fingers when he felt Cas’ hand on his cock move, bringing his cock down to his hole, positioning the tip of it on its entrance. Dean’s whole groin tingled, all his insides tightened and with one slow, strong push he was inside Cas, his cock surrounded by the warm muscle, tightening around him. They both moaned from their throats, mouths still together and the tips of two tongues sliding against one another.

Cas’ left hand was still on his own cock, now motionless at the sensation of Dean inside him. Dean moved his hand and in a firm grip around Cas’ hand and his cock, slowly started moving their hands in a slow rhythm, stroking Cas’ hard length. Soon Dean’s hips joined the same rhythm, moving inside Cas, the tightness almost unbearable, but he could feel Cas’ muscle relax and ease him out and in again. Every movement Dean made, he mirrored in the way he stroked Cas’ cock, and soon they started moving faster, and just when Dean felt like it was impossible to push further inside Cas, the angel arched his back and moaned beautifully, breaking their kiss and bringing Dean over the edge with him.

Dean collapsed on top of Cas, still inside him, unable to think or move. Dean doesn’t know how long he stayed like this, but after a while he could feel Cas’ fingers playing with his hair at the back of his neck. He moved, slowly and carefully, sliding out of the angel. He removed the condom, and lay down next to Cas, who was quietly watching him. Dean put one of his hands on Cas’ chest, enjoying the calm and even pace of his heaving chest.

It scared Dean, and not just a bit, how quickly he learned to love Cas, and how unthinkable life without him already seemed. It scared the crap out of him, actually. This angel could already destroy him like no one else. And at the same time, he felt his own impact on Cas, he knew that Cas was equally vulnerable, and probably aware of it all the same.

He looked up from his hand on Cas’ chest to the angel’s eyes, and saw that he was asleep, looking as vulnerable as Dean felt. 

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading - feedback encouraged!


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